Reunion
by Galae
Summary: Two years after Voldemort’s demise, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy meet again. Only one is them is not what he seems. [slash, AU]


Summary: Two years after Voldemort's demise, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy meet again.  Only one is them is not what he seems. [slash, AU]

_Author's Note:_

The first chapter might be a little confusing.  Hang on.  Harry's waiting to explain it all in the second chapter.  And since I haven't read _OotP_ (I know, I know!  I'm a traitor to Harry Potterdom!), some things might be out of sync.  Please forgive me.

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**Reunion**

**_by Galae_******

Chapter One

_In which Harry meets Draco_

As Harry Potter learned upon his thirty-second birthday, there are two rules to being dead.

1) Do not reveal yourself to the mortal.

2) Do not carry on any personal relationships with the mortal.

It was upon his thirty-third birthday that he broke both rules.

~*~*~

"Good morning, Mr. Donne.  How may I help you?"

Harry smiled at the clerk.  "Good morning.  Could you inform me as to where the Good Shepherd is?"

"Certainly.  Go straight for two blocks and then turn to your right.  Walk three blocks further and you'll see the Good Shepherd.  It's on Clover Street."

"Thank you very much," Harry said.  

"You are welcome, Mr. Donne.  Have a nice day!" the clerk said affably.

With a nod, Harry turned and walked out of the hotel.

~*~*~

Of course, he wasn't Harry Potter anymore.  At least, not to the mortal world.  To both Muggle and wizard, he was James Clarke Donne.

It was only after he died that he realized how little a difference lay between the non-magical and magical societies.  Compared to the breach that he had to leap over everyday, the one between the living was tiny.  Harry had long started regarding wizards as a special subset of Muggle.  They were simply Muggles with special abilities.  

He was thinking of this because he was currently in the "Muggle" world.  The city he was staying in was Christminster, and he was in Devon, England.  Harry looked every much the careless businessman.  

"Business" was an appropriate word for what he's doing.  

Harry clutched his briefcase tighter as he wound through the streets.  With his other hand, he brushed his hair back absently.  The wind was quite something today.  

The Good Shepherd looked relatively busy.  Harry checked his watch.  Ten to twelve.  With a casual push, he entered the pub.  At this time of day, it was mainly filled with men in their lunch break.  There were a few laborers, but most of them were dressed like him—suit and tie and patent leather.  

Harry quickly walked to the bar, ordered something mildly alcoholic, and sat down on a stool.  He surveyed the crowd.  Nobody that interested him.  Harry flicked open his briefcase and took out a folder.  For the thousandth time he checked the face that stared from the first page—a young man, probably no more than one and twenty years of age.  He would have been strikingly good-looking if it weren't for the sullen look on his face.  This was Christopher Marrona, his contact.

Harry looked again into the pub.  No.  His eyes drifted to his watch again.  Twelve now.

Harry sighed and took a long sip of his drink.  He shuffled some papers around to feign engagement.  But all that was lost when the blue-suited man next to him cleared his throat and said, "So.  You're new around here."

He looked up and tried to seem dignified.  "True.  I am on a business trip."

"Ah," said the blue suit, "they all are."

"_They_?" Harry repeated.

"C'mon, my friend.  Christminster isn't a big place.  When something happens, something happens.  Eight times in the past month a man had shown up in here, and then two days later he is bleeding out in the pavement.  Whatever your 'business' is, I suggest that you leave this old town."

Harry blinked.  "I am sorry.  I have not heard of this . . . news before.  I am truly here on business.  I have matters to discuss with the Richmond Corporation."

But the blue suit didn't seem fazed.  Instead, he leaned closer to Harry.  "First bloke, good-looker.  He was up here, drinking away cause he just split with his girlfriend.  Real shame.  The fourth guy was dressed just like you—black suit and blue shirt.  He was gutted in the skull."

"Oh?" Harry's voice increased a notch.

"Look," the man said.  "I'm just telling you.  I saw all of them.  After the fifth guy, I figg'red something's wrong, so ever since I've kept my watch here.  I've been waiting for you to show up.  Now _my_ business is over.  I warned you, and I'm not going to bother you no more.  See?  I'm heading back to the headquarters."

True to his word, the man in the blue suit stood up and paid.  Harry could only look after him dumbly.

Almost at the door, the man turned around and saluted him.  "Wait a minute," Harry said, "where do you work?"

Blue suit winked.  "I'll be an executive officer at Richmond, sir."

~*~*~

It was twelve-fifteen.

Damn it!  He had missed him.  Marrona probably slipped away, seeing as how nobody approached him.

That man!

Even though he just missed his contact, Harry was more agitated over the blue suit.  How did he know _everything_?  Was he a part of it, sent to warn him to stay away?  Did he _know_?

Everything the man described—everything—was his mission.  Harry had been sent by Ms. Winston to investigate these brain-fuddling murders at Christminster.  The fourth "man" that the blue suit mentioned was another Agent, his old Hogwarts friend Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Harry looked around the pub.  No Marrona.  So.  No use staying in this pub.  He paid the bartender and walked outside.

He was about to go back to his hotel when a nerve triggered at the back of his mind.

Something was wrong.

Harry straightened up.  Carefully, he stepped off the curb.  There was a side alley, near the pub, that branched off of Clover Street.  Harry walked inside it.

Immediately, his eyes attempted to adjust to the shady environment.  The alley, like most in downtown areas, was seedy.  Beer cans, graffiti, holes and cracks in the brickwork.  The stench of urine permeated the air.

A buzzing of flies.

Towards what?  Rotten food?

Harry felt into his blazer for his wand.  Satisfied that it's there, he strode further into the alley.

He didn't need to go very far.  For soon he came upon a body, lying on the cobblestones.  

It was unmistakable.  It was the one of Christopher Marrona.

And standing over him, wearing a sinister smile, was Draco Malfoy.

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The plot of this story had been much inspired by _Yami no Matsuei_, a Japanese series involving Shinigami, or the gods of death.  

And two points to anyone who knows where Christminster is!

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End file.
